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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30148140">silk (and gold and copper and ivory)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevereverever/pseuds/nevereverever'>nevereverever</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Critical Role (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>But It Sure Is Gay, Day At The Beach, Fluff, Introspection, M/M, Post-Canon, Shadowgast could be read as established or as pining, Sleepy Cuddles, Sunsets, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, pure fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:54:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,577</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30148140</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevereverever/pseuds/nevereverever</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Essek Theylss considers himself a lucky man, but not by his own hand. There were many threads he did not control, and it must have been by some great miracle that they wove together into a rope that pulled him <i>finally</i> out of the darkness. </p><p>That miracle brought him here, to a Nicodrani beach at sunset, where one Caleb Widogast has fallen asleep in his lap.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Beauregard Lionett/Yasha, Essek Thelyss &amp; Caleb Widogast, Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, Fjord/Jester Lavorre, The Mighty Nein &amp; Essek Thelyss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>279</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>silk (and gold and copper and ivory)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Guess who wrote this at 2 in the morning on Thursday to distract herself from being emo about the Mighty Nein? Can you guess? No warnings this time, lovelies, this is just sweet.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For a skilled practitioner of dunamancy, luck is a moldable thing. It can be crafted from strings of possibility like silk on a weaver's loom. Delicate, to be sure, but knowable.</p><p>Essek Theylss considers himself a lucky man, but not by his own hand. There were many threads he did not control, and it must have been by some great miracle that they wove together into a rope, stronger than his careful tapestry ever could have been, that pulled him <i>finally</i> out of the darkness. </p><p>That miracle brought him here, to a Nicodrani beach at sunset. There is an umbrella over him, carefully painted by Jester’s hand, that has shielded him from a long, joyous day’s sunlight. </p><p>That miracle brought him a man who showed him his world in reflection, what he might have if he looked away from his tapestry of time and knowledge and fate long enough to take it. A man who fought and traded and sacrificed for what he believed in. A man who, remarkably, foolishly, impossibly, had decided to believe in Essek.</p><p>A man named Caleb Widogast, who has fallen asleep with his head on Essek's thigh. The book he had been reading has fallen against his chest, his hands still gently resting on the cover. There's a little furrow in his brow as if even in sleep he is trying to solve a tricky puzzle.</p><p>It occurs to Essek that this may just be the happiest he has ever been. </p><p>The orange-pink light of the sun setting over the Lucidean Ocean makes the smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks look like gold dust. His hair glows like copper and his skin is ivory and Essek thinks that perhaps this man is made of the arcane. Who needs the components in the pouch at his hip, who needs an arcane focus when he has Caleb right here, sleeping in the early evening light. Every soft rise and fall of his chest is more magical than any spell they could devise.</p><p>He tears his gaze from the beautiful thing in his lap and looks out to the shore where the rest of his family- and he is sure now that is what they are- are winding down from a long day. Jester and Fjord are sitting at the edge of the surf as the tide goes out, their heads bowed in the conversation too soft to hear. Beau and Yasha are still swimming, almost too far to see beyond the crashing waves. Caduceus and the Brenattos are sitting on a picnic blanket a ways off, eating from a basket Yeza packed that morning. Little Luc has fallen asleep in his mother’s arms, and Veth has a warm content smile on her face.</p><p>Essek reaches out and brushes a stray curl of hair from Caleb's cheek where it has fallen from Veth's careful braids. His skin is warm from hours of sunlight or from the fire that crackles in his veins, maybe both. Selfishly, Essek runs his thumb over the crease in Caleb’s brow, to smooth away the worry. As lightly as he can, he traces along the straight edge of the human’s jaw, the gentle curve of his ear, barely bushes a fingertip across his lower lip. He looks so young like this, cleanshaven and warm and asleep in the fine, white sand as if the umbrella above them is protecting him from the weight of the world</p><p>He thinks that the Nein forgets sometimes that he is young too. Not just young for a drow, but he’s hardly lived compared to the many consecuted people he used to be surrounded by, barely born compared to an umavi like his mother. He would never ascend that far, but he has centuries left and he would spend every single moment of it right here with him- with them- if he could.</p><p>He lets some sand sift through his fingers and the moment passes, but the warm feeling in his chest doesn’t. Beau and Yasha emerge from the ocean a few minutes later, soaking wet and grinning, arm in arm. Yasha has seaweed in her hair.</p><p>“We’re going to the fish market, you guys wanna come with us?” Beau says, shaking her head like a wet dog trying to get water out of its ear. Jester giggles and starts to get to her feet. She reaches her hand out to help Fjord up, but he doesn’t take it.</p><p>“Nope, I will not do that again,” he says, crossing his arms. Beau and Yasha fist bump. He shakes his head and looks away.</p><p>“Fjord,” Jester protests, shooting him one of those looks that even strangers are charmed by. Fjord doesn’t stand a chance. It’s sweet, watching his face melt into the soft adoration he so often wears when looking at her. He takes her hand and stands up.</p><p>“Fine, but no taco talk,” he points at Beau and Yasha and narrows his eyes, “Ducey?” Caduceus turns to face them. </p><p>“I think we’re alright over here,” he points at Luc and mimes rocking a baby. Veth snickers and shakes her head. “You all go on ahead, we can meet you later.”</p><p>“Caleb?” Beau asks as if he is not lying on the ground directly in front of her.</p><p>“Sleeping,” Essek says softly, resisting the selfish urge to curl around the human in his lap and let him rest until the circles under his eyes have faded. Beau raises an eyebrow at him and he sighs. He thinks, sometimes, about using spells like Caleb does, big powerful shows of magic just to toss Beau back into the sea. Instead, he returns her stare. It doesn't take her long to back down and isn't that a curious way to show love. "Give us a moment."</p><p>“Fine, but meet us there, alright? Come on, we have to eat before we get fucked up.” Beau pulls her hair up into a very messy bun. Yasha bumps her with her hip.</p><p>"Beau, when did you get responsible about drinking?" she says. Beau looks up from fiddling with her sash, scandalized. Jester muffles a laugh into Fjord's shoulder and he wraps an arm around her waist.</p><p>"Fuck you, you take that back," Beau says, punching her girlfriend in the arm as they walk away from the sea and into the city. The whirlwind of energy the Mighty Nein kicked up settles, and the calm returns. The soft susurrus of the waves as they lap at the sand is soothing, rhythmic. Essek digs his feet into the sand.</p><p>“Caleb,” he whispers, weaving his hand into soft, auburn hair, terribly wrecking whatever braids were left intact. He scratches his nails gently along the human’s scalp. “Darling, you have to wake up, or Jester’s going to start wasting spell slots to message us.”</p><p>Essek knows he is a lucky man. How else would he have ended up with this genius, this beautiful force of nature of a man rubbing his cheek against Essek’s thigh as he slowly blinks open his eyes? He can’t think of another explanation. He is a skilled weaver of fate, but this is more than he deserves. Or- not more, but better, sweeter, more grounded. He lets his hand rest on Caleb's cheek and brushes away a spot of sand with his thumb.</p><p>“Hallo,” Caleb says, his gaze taking a moment to focus on Essek’s face. He might need glasses someday soon. A sweet, slow smile drifts across his lips. In the golden light, Essek can just see the pink of a sunburn tinging his cheeks. </p><p>“Hello. We’re going to go get dinner." Essek runs his fingers through Caleb's hair a few more times, trying and failing to right what he had mussed. Caleb hums and his eyes fall shut.</p><p>"It's sunset," he mumbles sleepily. It is a good thing Caleb’s eyes are closed, Essek thinks, or else he would see the stupid smile on his face. But he can't help himself because they are warm and safe and together and it is sunset. </p><p>"It is," Essek replies. Caleb levers himself upright with a little huff of effort. Essek misses the touch for a moment, and that too is a selfish thing. But then Caleb leans into his side, resting his temple on his shoulder. Caleb starts tracing patterns in the sand with his finger, little rudimentary transmutation runes.</p><p>"You know, that's how I always can tell the time," Caleb says "I know how long it is until sunset. Right now, it's just sunset." They both look out at the last sliver of the sun disappearing behind the horizon. It hurts Essek's eyes to look, but he does anyway. He is not meant for sunsets, and yet here he is. For the longest time he didn't think he was meant for love either, and yet here Caleb is with his cheek on Essek's bony shoulder. He does not deserve it, and yet here it is, being offered.</p><p>"It's beautiful," he says and he means it. He means all of it. "Dinner." He makes to stand but Caleb's fingers close around his wrist before he gets far.</p><p>"Wait wait wait, can we sit here, just a little while longer?" Caleb whispers, something shy and pleading in his voice. "I don't want to go back to the crowds yet." He strokes his thumb across Essek's pulse point. His eyes are so blue and <i>so very beautiful</i>. </p><p>"I think that can be arranged.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Leave me a note if you have something to say about this, good, bad, or in-between!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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